Give me Love and Money, I have the rest already

*wipes dust off keyboard*

It’s been a while. And if I say I don’t miss writing, I’m a big liar.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgId62LQEbY&feature=related

I’m so jealous that everybody can paste youtubes on their blog but all I can do is paste a stupid link. And my sorry ass just can’t be bothered to learn.

Can I share this discovery with you? When I listen to him, I have come to terms that my biggest regret in my life, not learning to play the guitar. However I console myself that all is not too late….I will have children….they will help me accomplish things I am not able to in my lifetime. Is that considered exploitation?

Maybe…..maybe I can start writing again…..but I need lots of time….lots of daydreaming….digressing…..random exploration of un-important possibilities in my under-utilised mind…..

I reminisce.

I stubbed out my fag in the ashtray and detached myself from the page-turner that I was holding. It was the first time that I’ve been to One Fullerton and honestly speaking, I think it’s beautiful. If not for some careless girl’s negilgence, I would not even have discovered this place.

I checked out the crowd (people watching has always been my unofficial obsession). To my right, a Caucasian girl scissored her chocolate muffin with a fork. She gingerly placed the fork into her mouth, as though her sin would go unnoticed if she was cautious about it. She herself was buried in a book, and I was tempted to sit myself beside her to find out what she was reading.

Glancing over to my left, a Harrison Ford lookalike was on the phone. Pristinely ironed shirt, tie, suitcase and all, I whispered "businessman" under my breath. "No kidding? That’s fantastic. Well congratulations…….." I eavesdropped.

In front of me, 3 Korean girls. While I measured them from their Gucci shades and Chanel handbags, I was certain that they were judging me as well from my pierced ears and tattooed arms.

I picked up my phone and called Katie. Her name is spelled as  K a t i e  in my phonebook because I realised that by putting spaces in between, she would be the first to appear when I press K. The very first photo that I took of her flashed on my handphone screen and I pressed the phone onto my ear. I amused her with my childish jokes and it seemed to please her. Before we put down the phone, she said "I miss you". And with a smile fondly on my face, I replied in reciprocation.

I took a deep breath and continued to read from my book…..

"The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it."

Suddenly, being lost in transition doesn’t seem so bad after all.

One year ago, it was very much different.

I watched the whole of Wimbledon and managed to write down a pretty opinionated entry on it. I discovered my denial of affection when I made my annual trip to the temple to pay respects to Shuping. I watched Superman and extracted a romantic portion of it onto paper.

This year.

I missed the whole Wimbledon tournament and I forgot about Shuping’s anniversary. I watch many movies but I excuse myself from having a deeper meaning of the shows. I’m starting to ……go through the motion….

As I become more involved in the materialistic things in life, I start to lose pieces of myself to this insane whirlpool of desires.

And as I strive to contribute to social economic growth and family welfare, I realise it doesn’t satisfy me.

Time is a major factor in my equation. And these days, people DEMAND time from me. It’s almost out of my own jurisdiction.

On the day I stayed at home, I switched on the DVD player and watched Monsters Inc. with MingMing. Together. It was very satisfying in a non-materialiastic manner. At the age of 26, I toy with the idea of early retirement. *scratches head*

Sometimes you’d wish that you were a little bit more involved…….especially when you know that you could have been.

I quote Arnold Daly. "Golf is like a love affair; if you don’t take it seriously, it’s no fun. If you do take it seriously, it breaks your heart."

Sometimes you’d stop yourself from falling deeply in love……especially when you suspect that your heart’s gonna break. When sense of security is thin and there are lots of dubious characters, you try not to take it seriously…..When popularity with the opposite sex becomes surprisingly convenient and coincidental…..your self defense nerves tingle.

"Protect yourself at all times" That’s what the referee always says in the ring right at the beginning before the fighters touch gloves. So you do exactly what you’re told to do. You adopt the classic "peekaboo" and hide your chin behind your gloves. Your coach shouts from the corner "That’s right! Keep your hands up!" But as long as you keep your hands up near your face, you’re never going to let your fists fly and your elbows are never going to snap. The only way to sting, is to hang your hands loosely around your chest…..and risk getting hit on your chin.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead the way are blinding

There are many things that I

would like to say to you

But I don’t know how

– Oasis

When you don’t know, you don’t think. Be it consciously or un-consciously, you simply don’t think when you don’t know (unless you’re Einstein). And when you don’t think, you don’t feel.

Hence the title of thy entry "Ignorance is bliss".

And bliss…………………bliss is self-defined.

If you ask me to define bliss, I would ask you to see thy title of thy blog.

It’s late at night and I guess most of the world is sleeping. No it’s not coffee that has kept me from falling asleep tonight. It’s a certain conversation that’s left me wide awake.

For as long as I can remember, I have been an advocator of transparency and speaking your mind. And never has it been a tripping stone until tonight. I am not a result-oriented person, mainly because I have always believed in the journey more than the destination. I still can recall sitting in the interview room, wearing my uncomfortable shirt and tie, not wearing any of my ear studs. And Stanley Yong asked "So what makes you think that you can manage and excel in the marine industry, when you’re coming from a mechanical discipline?" My answer: "It’s true that my degree is a mechanical engineering qualification, but I think that should be secondary with respect to education. What is more important, is the skills and abilities that I have picked up in this 4 years I spent acquiring the qualification."

When she dwells too much on the future and the destination, it really brings me down. Someday, we may need to rest our heads on the same pillow and talk about it until dawn. But don’t you think it’s still too early? I refuse to admit that I am procrastinating because if I really am, then there’s no need for romancing and falling in love, then there’s no need for Ewan Mcgregor to sing "I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is, now you’re in the world". People should just walk around with a clipboard and tick against their checklist, and when everything is checked, that’s the person they’re going to marry.

Even if 2 people from 2 totally different cultures and beliefs has to eventually return to where they belong, I’m sure they would be grateful for the journey they have shared.

As of now, I just need a tiny wand so that I can imitate Harry Potter. I can imagine myself….concentrating all my chakra…..conjuring all my innermost postitive feelings…."Expecto Patronum!" I don’t need to cast a very good one, just a small silvery mist to envelope myself, making me immune to negative feelings like despair….

Today I received a postcard from myself. It was something they made us do when we were still going through orientation. That was roughly around October or November in 2006. Staring at the envelope, I didn’t find it familiar at first. But when I saw the small little 25 cents stamp I had drawn on the top right corner, it started coming back. I tore open the envelope fondly.

Dear Me,

By now you should have gotten the hang of things and more or less climatised to to the company culture. I hope that you have succeeded in keeping your promise to eat ice-cream only twice a week.

*wry smile*

There’s a hundred and one things I want to say but I don’t know how. All the things that races through my mind, I wish to pen them down and write something interesting about them. What’s paradoxical is….I sort of lost the ability to. When I read back on my previous entries like "Mandisa and the Director" and " Hopeless. Romantic", I feel jealous of myself. I crave to indulge in my digressing, to float away somewhere unreal, to explore unimportant possibilities.

I want to say that without lunchtime ice-cream, there’s no highlight in my day. It’s like having sex and not climaxing.

I want to say that I was abused verbally by a complete stranger even before the sun came up from the east. And all I did was swallow. I don’t understand why I can be so strong for the people around me but I just can’t do the same for myself.

I want to say that I’ve got pain. But I know that you’re gonna sing back to me "Baby we’ve all got pain".

I want to say that I lost my other big toe nail while playing ball. I seriously question the function of them. They’re never around when I really need them. Now I just pray that they will heal before the 3-on-3 that I promised CD to participate in.

I want to say that I felt lonely when Shihai told me he’s going to be away for 9 months or more. Even though we don’t see each other as much anymore, it’s still intimidating to know that I have to do without him. I better learn how to handle MSN very soon.

I want to say that the Opera Ghost was someone who wrote enchanting operas, someone who was a talented singer, and a very wise teacher. For many years the opera house he resided in flourished, capitalizing on the scripts he wrote and secretly delivered to the matron. He fell in love with a little girl named Christine, an insignificant dancer in the opera house. Through her dreams, he taught her how to sing like an angel. And slowly, he groomed her to become the leading actress. He was in control, until Prince Charming came along and showed Christine a more orthodox form of love. In the end Christine chose to be with Prince Charming. And the Opera Ghost, torn internally between his love for Christine and wanting to do the right thing, chose to fade into nothing-ness.

I want to say that beer from the tap tastes really really succulent. And as Aw and I sat amongst a nonchalent crowd, soaking in the amatuerish live music, the fumes from our fags spiralled upwards voluntarily. For who and what I am right now, it was a Friday beyond my expectations.

So if you have a minute why don’t we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know

This could be the the end of everything

So why don’t we go somewhere only we know  –Keane

When you buy a new car, you gotta maintain it. Run it in the unconventional way, bring it to a downslope and let the gravity overtake the engine. OIl changes every few thousands of kilometres, brake pad changes when you hear the noise-making shims screeching against your disc brake, tyre changes when you feel them aqua-planing in puddles of water. Feed it premium high-octane petrol to keep the combustion chambers clean.

When you get into a new relationship, you gotta sustain it. Prioritise your girl…or to be more specific…prioritise your time for your girl. Bring her out for dinner and movies. Watch out for those special dates and squeeze your creative juices to plan something unique. Sacrifice your beloved testosterone-induced activities like playing computer games or watching football. Take into account all little details like holding her hand when she meets your friends for the first time (cos she’s bound to be nervous), and emptying out some of your clothes in the wardrobe so that she gets to invade it with her own. Romantic long walks along mosquito-breeding water holes are a must. Tele-conversations that lasts for hours past midnight are essential.

I’m used to pulling my own weights. And I’m definitely used to running at my own pace….waltzing through the finishing line in my own style.

I’m used to being selfish. Without the need to consider the feelings of somebody special….I’m used to that.

I don’t mind being in a mad rush, racing to finish my errands in the day just to keep my night free for her. But it’s gotta be worth it. I don’t want to feel unappreciated. Especially when I really did try.

And I don’t understand human beings’ obsession with SMS. It has come to a point where people see missed calls on their mobile phones, they return that missed call with an SMS "You called?" *bangs head onto wall repeatedly*

I’m really upset at how she put down the phone at the end of our conversation. And I’m suddenly reminded of why I was so determined to stay un-attached. God damn expectations. It’s the greatest under-rated word in the English dictionary. I’m so proud of Charles Dickens for getting it right.

Can’t help but think to myself that the market rate has changed. I don’t remember it being so difficult. What used to be enough, now is inadequate. I can continue to explore all other excuses for myself. But I know better in actual fact. I have slackened and lost touch, at the same time refusing to acknowledge my own incompetencies.

I can’t sustain. And I find myself suffocating underneath the surface.